


Drunken Voicemails

by painty



Series: Across Time and Space [6]
Category: Diary of a Wimpy Kid, The X-Files
Genre: Across Time and Space (ATAS), Anger, Angst, Breakup, Crying, Depression, Drunk Mulder, Fox Mulder Torture, Grief, Guilt, M/M, Sadness, Voicemails, You will be sad, he's super drunk seriously, pent up emotions, truthful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painty/pseuds/painty
Summary: Mulder leaves Rodrick a depressing voicemail while he's drunk. Mid-shot to Across Time and Space (5).





	Drunken Voicemails

Mulder gets super drunk and leaves a very depressing voicemail for Rodrick.

tw ;; lots of them so stray away if you don't like ANGST

Mulder hadn't expected to get this drunk.

All he'd done was drop by the bar, gotten a drink and watched the people around him communicate. But as the night dragged on he let himself drink more and more, and well... the alcohol overtook his body. He hardly remembered what he'd even done at the bar. Who knows. It was all a fuzz.

Mulder had eventually left. He was aware that if he was pulled over he could easily get a DUI and get kicked out of the FBI but honestly, at this point, Mulder didn't care. Murphy's Law had fucked him over so much at this point, the brown-haired male wouldn't even be surprised.

So he drove. Very drunkly. But luckily it was late at night and there wasn't much traffic. He could see colors so the street lights weren't too hard to notice and process. Mulder then began to drive without really knowing where he was going, just letting his heart lead the way. If he crashed into a wall he crashed into a wall. Not much mattered anymore.

Mulder wound up on a deserted road outside of Washington. His heart suddenly became heavy in his chest, his eyes dark as the dim moon shone down on him. Stars twinkled in the sky and no clouds were in sight. The FBI Agent frowned. That was disappointing. He loved clouds and rain.

The dirt road stretched on for a while. Dust kicked up in the air from his tires, a forest beginning to come into view. Mulder thought it might be the forest he and Rodrick first visited to catch wendigos but... it wasn't.

Rodrick.

The thought of his former lover weighed Mulder down so badly. The guilt was almost too much to handle. Hell, he'd tried to fucking kill himself, but alas, he was too much of a coward. He always was, always had been. The brown-haired male acted strong but... he wasn't. It was all a mask to cover the pain that stuck with his heart all those years. Ever since he'd been twelve and Samantha was abducted. Tried to kill himself, gotten beaten by his dad, emotionally abused by his mom, just shitty things happening left and right... 

And Mulder thought Scully leaving him had been bad.

Being the cause of this heartbreak was the worst of it all. Because deep down, Mulder knew he'd done it. He'd fucked everything up. He'd hurt Rodrick.

But the FBI Agent hurt everyone he touched. Social isolation clearly didn't work, so what else was there to do? And the fucker named God apparently didn't want him to die either so what the fuck else could happen? Was this hell? Maybe he was in purgatory or some stupid shit. Trying to hurtle over past mistakes even though Mulder was aware the past couldn't be mended. The FBI Agent had been fucked up too much for that. And therapy was fucking bullshit and Mulder would give a middle finger to that thought any day.

Unfortunately, wanting to become a psychologist and having training in it hadn't been great for the brown-haired male. Because of it, he simply couldn't go to therapy. And that really was shit, because Mulder needed help. But he refused and fucked himself up more and more until his heart exploded and the pain was too much to bear so he tried to kill himself. Shit he couldn't count how many times he'd even tried to take his life. He remembered college and shivered at the thought.

That had been the worst one. That's all he knew.

Goddammit. Mulder wished he had more alcohol because the numbing effects were clearly wearing off. He was feeling now. That was the worst. 

Looks like hours of drinking and putting poison into your body didn't do much in the long run.

Huffing, Mulder pulled his car over on the side of the road. He opened the door and grabbed his cigarette and lighter, shutting it and leaning against the side of the car. He lit the cigarette and placed it between his lips, inhaling the smoke and coughing it out. Mulder stared at the stars and suddenly wanted to... call Rodrick.

He won't answer, you fucking idiot, a voice hissed in the back of his mind. 

Rodrick never did. But Mulder didn't blame his former lover. Not at all. If the FBI Agent ever got calls he never heard them because his answering machine was off. What the fuck was the point of that stupid shit anymore. He needed to isolate himself.

Turning around and reaching through the open window, Mulder grabbed his phone and sunk to the ground, flicking the cigarette out of his fingers and crushing it with his shoe. The brown-haired male dialed Rodrick's number, which he knew by heart, and let the phone be on speaker.

Mulder knew Rodrick wouldn't pick up. But he'd at least leave a voicemail. Something to at least... explain why he'd done what he'd done. He was fucked up. Was that explanation enough?

He heard the Heffley's usual voicemail and it cut to the ring, allowing Mulder to leave a voicemail. He spluttered out another breath of smoke, sighing as he leaned back again.

"I'm looking at the stars right now," Mulder slurred, his voice a bit quiet. "For some reason they reminded me of you."

The FBI Agent really wasn't sure why. Shit he still loved Rodrick. That thought was heartbreaking and pathetic. More pathetic.

"I j-just... wanted to apologize since I can't do it unless I'm fucking hammered." Mulder curled his fingers into the dirt road below, feeling the pain fill him up inside. "So I'm drunk. Fucking cliché ass voicemail that you won't even listen to but it helps me and I'd rather not try to kill myself again so yeah. Sorry for the burden."

Wow he'd already admitted a lot but he was still so drunk Mulder hardly noticed. Being honest was the only thing that could even begin to mend he and Rodrick's relationship. And if there was one thing the FBI Agent knew, it was that he had never been honest in any of his relationships. Not about himself, at least.

"I don't know what I saw in Diana," Mulder admitted after a period of silence. "Sh-She was never as amazing as you. I couldn't joke with her. I fucking hated her." His heart felt like it has shriveled up and died in his chest. The person he'd chosen over Rodrick had left. But Mulder wouldn't admit that. It would be too horrible and embarrassing and shitty. "And fuck she called me Fox even when I told her how much I fucking hate my name and to call me Mulder."

He sighed heavily. "But I-I listened to her lies. And I was manipulated because heyyyy I'm a fucking piece of shit that deserves nothing so maybe this is just God getting back at me for being an ignorant asshole and fucking everyone over." He hesitated. "So you can go ahead and think that about me because trust me Rodrick, I know that shit is true. And you're the only one I can admit it to because you know it best." Mulder let out a dry chuckle but didn't feel amused. He felt the opposite. His heart was breaking in his chest and sinking into darkness and his mind was turning into a fuzz again and he hardly knew what he was saying.

"I'm also a piece of shit just for so many reasons. Don't know how many times I left Scully for some unimaginable truth that always turned out to be a lie." Mulder sighed. "I mean I'm so fucking pathetic that my goddamn boss had to take my gun away for suicide watch or whatever the fuck. Yeah dumbass, there are other ways to kill yourself. Dumb fuck. No, no, I'm the dumb fuck, shut the fuck up Mulder." 

God he wanted to slam his head into the car and just die now. He hated admitting all of this but at the same time it felt... sort of nice. The FBI Agent didn't know. He'd never been this honest with someone in his life. So he might as well continue to rant.

"So yeah, no gun, no badge and no work. Pretty sure I'm about to shove my head through a fucking window because it's torture not having anything or anyone. Then again I did that so I can blame myself for that one. Fucking ticking time bomb curse here. Everyone I touch turns to inevitable ashes, because I either get them killed or have them leave me."

Mulder's lip quivered. His throat began to burn. Was he really going to cry? Like a fucking child? Yes. Yes, he was, because he suddenly felt twelve again. "A-And I just hate myself s-so much for everything." The FBI Agent's voice began to crack. "Because all I-I do is fuck everything up be-because I-I can't let my life be okay and b-be happy. So what the fuck is the point of l-living anymore? Oh, that's right, tr-trying to kill yourself however many fucking times and failing doesn't help so I don't know what the fuck to do if God won't let me end this shitty, pathetic life."

A sob left his lips and he began to cry. Mulder hated himself. "I-I don't know what the fuck this even is. I wanted t-to apologize for being a fucking dick but it just turned into a terrible rant and now I feel e-even worse. B-But I'm so drunk I hopefully won't r-remember. So g-go ahead and delete it if you got this far, which I doubt you did." He thought more of how he'd betrayed Rodrick and covered his mouth to stop more heavy sobs. "I-I'm s-s-sorry Rod-Rodrick. L-l-love you."

Mulder ended the call and cried with anguish into the night. Because right now, all the brown-haired male was was a hurting soul with nothing left to live for. And that was a dark, depressing thought.


End file.
